Biting Time to Death
by Lys ap Adin
Summary: So they've got a little time on their hands to dispose of.  Hibari x Yamamoto, smut.


**Title:** Biting Time to Death**  
Characters/Pairings:** Hibari/Yamamoto**  
Summary:** So they've got a little time on their hands to dispose of.**  
Notes:** Adult for smut; for ticktocktober's prompt _Hibari/Yamamoto, "__Biting time to death."_ 2690 words.

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**Biting Time to Death**

It wasn't until they got to Rome, got checked into the hotel and everything, that the message from home caught up with them. Takeshi made a face at it when he finally got around to reading the note; bad enough that Giancarlo Ruscitti was flirting with the Pozzo Nero, but now he was jerking them around, too? It was enough to make a man wonder what on earth it was Ruscitti thought he was doing.

Kyouya had already retreated into his own room; Takeshi considered leaving him be, but no, he was already out of temper from having been dragged into this. Better to get the bad news out of the way fast.

When he crossed the hall and tapped on Kyouya's door, he got no response. He let himself in and immediately understood why: the shower was running and tendrils of steam were creeping out from around the edges of the door he'd left ajar. Takeshi shook his head and made himself comfortable for the wait, since Kyouya could take approximately forever in a shower if he didn't run out of hot water.

He was flipping channels in search of an acceptable game when the water finally cut off. Kyouya himself appeared mere seconds later, wet hair raked back from his face and dripping on his shoulders, water beading on his skin, to glare at him and turn the television off with an emphatic jab of his finger. "You have your own."

"I think your mattress is better." Takeshi wriggled on it and wondered whether it was even worth it to pretend that he wasn't admiring the pale, sleek lines of Kyouya's body and the fact that Kyouya hadn't even bothered with a towel to nod at modesty, but—no, he really wasn't that good an actor. "So Hayato called. Ruscitti's going to be late. We've got some time to kill."

Kyouya's method of showing displeasure these days tended to be less overt than they had been formerly. His lips pressed together, white with the pressure, before he whirled and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving only a set of damp footprints behind him as he slammed the door.

Takeshi pursed his lips, considering it. That could have gone worse. "He's not going to show till tomorrow night," he added, lifting his voice a bit so Kyouya would hear him through the door. "Apparently something came up." He tried, but couldn't quite pack as much irony into it as Hayato would have done, but then, Hayato was a past master of irony. "Anyway, I was thinking. Wouldn't it be fun if you were the good cop this time?"

Kyouya actually opened the door just to give him a look that showed what he thought of _that_. Takeshi grinned at him. "I mean, just think of how much that would freak Ruscitti out. I bet he'd wet himself if you smiled at him. And then I could stand back and glare at him for it."

Kyouya rolled his eyes and went back to toweling off, which was a pity in one sense, and was completely awesome in another, because he'd left the door open and that afford Takeshi a good view of the proceedings.

"You always get to be the bad cop," he continued, leaning back and watching the way Kyouya's muscles moved under his skin. "Don't you ever think about expanding your repertoire?"

Kyouya snorted.

"No? You should think about it. Flexibility is important in advancing your career."

Kyouya gave him another flat look. "I will strangle you with your own tie if you don't shut up."

Takeshi ranked that on the Hibari Kyouya scale of death threats and decided it was on the safe end of things as long as he changed the subject. "So Dino-san said there was a new Japanese place we should try while we're up here. He said it's supposed to be pretty good." He had to wonder about that, a little. Dino-san was pretty cool, sure, but he didn't really get food. "You wanna give it a shot for dinner? He said the bar was supposed to have a pretty good selection of sakes."

Kyouya dropped his towel on the floor and kicked it under the sink before he stalked out of the bathroom, still stark naked and glorious to behold. "Cavallone said it was good?"

"He said it was _supposed_ to be good," Takeshi clarified. "I don't know that he's actually been."

Kyouya wrinkled his nose. "Don't you have a reliable opinion?"

Takeshi laughed and shrugged. "No. But it has to be better than room service."

"If it's not, I'll bite you to death." Kyouya mused on that. "Cavallone, too."

"I'm guessing that at least the sake will be good," Takeshi countered as Kyouya stooped over his suitcase, picking through it. "Pretty hard to mess that up."

"Venice," Kyouya pronounced without looking up, which—yeah, okay, that had been pretty bad all right, come to think of it.

"Surely nothing else can be that awful." Takeshi sat up and watched the curve of Kyouya's spine as he began to lay out a change of clothes. "I went ahead and called over to put in some reservations, just in case. We have some time to kill before then, though." Kyouya glanced at him them, one eyebrow arched. Takeshi smiled at him, as winning as he knew how to make it. "So, wanna come over here and let me suck your cock before you get dressed again?"

Kyouya put down the pair of socks he was holding. "I was wondering how long you were going to take to get to the point."

Takeshi grinned at him as he came around the bed. "Well, you gotta work up to these things. It's all about being subtle."

"It's not too late for me to change my mind about strangling you with your tie," Kyouya noted, even as he slid a knee onto the bed and knelt across Takeshi's lap. He let Takeshi slide his hands over his hips and draw him closer.

Takeshi laughed. "Maybe not, but could I do this if you did?" He ran his lips along the crest of Kyouya's hip, nuzzling skin that was still damp from the shower as he followed it down to where Kyouya's cock was already beginning to stir and fill. Kyouya made a soft sound, the breath hissing between his teeth as Takeshi slid his mouth down the length of his cock to tease his tongue over the head, back and forth, tracing the shape of it. He settled his hand on Takeshi's head, the weight of it pressing him forward. Takeshi would have laughed again, but it was better to slide his mouth around the head of Kyouya's cock and suck it between his lips and listen to the way Kyouya's breath caught as he went hard between one heartbeat and the next. Takeshi curved his hands around Kyouya's ass, cradling it in his palms as Kyouya curled his fingers in his hair, and opened his mouth wider as Kyouya rolled his hips forward.

That earned him the barest huff of a snort; when he glanced up, Kyouya was watching him, eyes half-veiled and glittering beneath his lashes. He slid his fingers through Takeshi's hair, curling them around the back of Takeshi's skull, and pushed deeper, crowding against him until Takeshi had to swallow him down. He hummed around Kyouya's cock, nuzzling Kyouya's stomach and inhaling the faint scent of the soap that lingered on his skin. Then Kyouya gripped his hair and shifted his hips, rocking them back and forth, fucking Takeshi's mouth and holding him still for it. Takeshi hummed again, sliding his fingers over the blades of Kyouya's hips, spreading them against the smooth skin of his ass and feeling the way his muscles moved with every slow flex of his hips. Kyouya was flushed over him, his expression as intent as the way he moved; the sight stole Takeshi's breath as heat twined through him.

Takeshi lifted one of his hands from Kyouya's hips, meaning to reach down and undo his fly, but Kyouya caught his hand. "No," he said, voice gone husky, which was enough to send heat stabbing through Takeshi. He moaned around Kyouya's cock as Kyouya pressed forward again, moving his hips in short little hitches, fucking Takeshi's throat until he hissed and gripped Takeshi's hand and hair, a tremor running through him as he came. Takeshi moaned around him, looking up at the fine sheen of sweat gleaming on Kyouya's skin and the relaxed, open pleasure on his face, and stroked his thumb over Kyouya's hip until he finally pulled away.

Kyouya settled over his thighs and smirked at him, feline; Takeshi began to say his name but stopped when Kyouya lifted his fingers and pressed them against his mouth. "Suck," he said.

Takeshi swallowed hard as his cock throbbed in his slacks and parted his lips again, wrapping them around Kyouya's fingers and sliding his tongue down the slender lengths of them. He traced it over Kyouya's calluses and the delicate skin between his fingers and watched Kyouya all the while. Kyouya lounged over his thighs, indolent, every muscle of him gone lax and easy. If Takeshi hadn't already been achingly hard, that sight alone would have done it for him. He moaned around Kyouya's fingers, inquiring, and hoped that Kyouya would understand what he was getting at.

Kyouya got the gist of it and smirked. "Do you know what I'm going to do with my fingers?" he asked. Takeshi raised his eyebrows and sucked harder. "I'm going to put them inside you. And then I'm going to fuck you."

Takeshi couldn't help glancing down and being impressed: Kyouya really _was_ kind of terrifying sometimes. But in a good way. He hummed around Kyouya's fingers, perfectly willing to go along with that plan, and Kyouya's lips turned up briefly. He reached down and undid Takeshi's fly, mouth curling at the relieved sound Takeshi made. "Take them off," he said, shifting his weight off Takeshi's lap.

Takeshi hooked his fingers in his waistband and shoved his slacks and underwear down, kicking them away from his ankles. Kyouya looked him over, eyes glinting. "You really are easy," he noted.

Takeshi just shrugged at him—wasn't like there was any point in denying it—and spread his knees wide, hoping Kyouya would take that for the invitation it was.

"Very easy," Kyouya said as he took his fingers away from Takeshi's mouth.

"What's the point in being difficult?" Takeshi pulled a knee up for him and groaned when Kyouya pushed his fingers right in. The stretch was hard, sharp against the ache of arousal; he reached up and wrapped his fingers around the headboard as Kyouya pushed his fingers deeper. "There's lube in my pocket, by the way."

"That's nice," Kyouya said and twisted his fingers till Takeshi saw stars.

It took some doing to scrape together enough brain cells to respond to that. "So maybe you want to use it, here in a little bit." Takeshi gulped in a deep breath as Kyouya moved his fingers, practically fucking him on them. "I kind of want to be able to sit tomorrow."

Kyouya's teeth showed between his lips. "I thought you wanted to be the bad cop who stands back and glares?" He curled his fingers and Takeshi arched into it, back coming off the bed as sensation ground up his spine. "Have you changed your mind?"

"You are an evil-minded _bastard_," Takeshi panted, grinning. "I hope you know that."

Kyouya pushed a third finger into him; the edge of heat twisting through Takeshi turned sharper, till he thought it would slice him open. "You're dodging the question."

"Okay, fine, you can—ah!—be the bad cop, I don't care." Takeshi arched under him, shuddering as Kyouya pressed his fingers _there_ with unerring accuracy. "Now come on and fuck me, Kyouya."

Kyouya snorted and reached for his slacks, pawing through his pockets until he unearthed the foil packet of lube that Takeshi had stashed there. "Confident," he noted, before ripping it open with his teeth.

Takeshi had to suck in a breath when Kyouya slicked his fingers and ran them over his own cock, taking his time about it, going heavy-lidded as he fisted himself. "Kyouya, don't tease."

"If I were teasing you, you'd know it." Kyouya enunciated each word precisely, even as he hooked his hands behind Takeshi's and splayed them wide. He paused, kneeling between Takeshi's legs, looking thoughtful. Then he shook his head. "Maybe later." He pushed in, one long thrust that stole the breath right out of Takeshi's throat with the way the pressure of it rolled through him.

He gripped the headboard more tightly, maybe even hard enough to score the wood's finish, and sucked in panting little breaths as Kyouya hovered over him, teeth showing between his lips. "C'mon," Takeshi urged him once he'd managed to snatch enough breath to do it with. "C'mon, don't hold back now."

The curve of Kyouya's smile stretched just a bit wider. "So very easy," he said again, before he began to move, hips rolling against Takeshi's, hard and fast. Takeshi would have liked to reply, but couldn't quite find the breath to do it with, not when each time Kyouya sank into him, pleasure sliced through him. He groaned instead, hanging onto the headboard and using it to brace himself against the way Kyouya fucked him, hard enough that the entire bed shook every time he drove himself home.

Then Kyouya pushed his knees wider, lifting his hips higher, and Takeshi saw stars when Kyouya's cock pushed in at that sharper angle. He gasped something, maybe Kyouya's name or something else, he didn't even know what, and Kyouya slammed into him again, and again, and Takeshi lost track of everything but the way pleasure had seized on him, breaking him open and scattering the pieces of him with its force.

Kyouya hissed something pleased and kept moving, fucking him through it; every snap of his hips pressed another groan out of Takeshi's throat as pleasure reverberated through him, till he felt raw with it. It was almost a relief when Kyouya gasped and went tense over him, baring his teeth as he came again, hips jerking against Takeshi before he sagged and sighed, body gone loose and relaxed again.

It took a couple of tries to get his fingers to uncurl from their death grip on the headboard, but it was worth it when he finally spread them against Kyouya's back. Kyouya permitted himself to be drawn down and sighed against Takeshi's ear as he settled over him. Takeshi sighed too, stretching himself out under Kyouya, practically ready to purr with satisfaction. Then he laughed as a thought occurred to him. "You can be the bad cop all you want, if that's what I get out of it." Kyouya bit him for it, not gently, but he'd kind of expected as much. It was worth it, anyway.

"Shut up," Kyouya told him; Takeshi had to bite down on his lip to keep from snickering, because he already sounded drowsy. Kyouya was like clockwork: he came, he smirked, he napped.

"I'm just saying," he said, pitching his voice lower out of deference to that fact. Kyouya growled something sleepy at him; a couple breaths later, he'd gone still and his breathing had turned deep and even.

Takeshi lifted his head to check the time, but thanks to Ruscitti's stalling, they still had plenty of time before they needed to think about getting ready for dinner, and it wasn't like Kyouya would let him get away with jostling him at this point. He grinned and settled himself against the pillows a little more comfortably and let himself drowse along with Kyouya. The last thing he wondered before he drifted off was whether Giancarlo Ruscitti actually thought he was inconveniencing them by rescheduling their meeting like he had. Not that he was going to disabuse Ruscitti of that idea if he did, of course, Takeshi reflected, and let sleep claim him.

**end**

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